


just say it

by labeledbones



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9114775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labeledbones/pseuds/labeledbones
Summary: Lukas never knows what to say or how to say it.But now he has things to say. Things he wants to say. Things he needs to say. To Philip. About Philip.Like about how Philip looks right now.Philip and Lukas at the Red Hook party and Lukas, as always, struggling with his words.





	

    
Lukas never knows what to say or how to say it. The words just pile up in his brain and get all twisted and messed up and come out wrong. So most of the time he just doesn’t say anything. And it worked for him before. His silences let people go ahead and assume things about him that probably weren’t true. They let him lie without really lying. 

But now he has things to say. Things he wants to say. Things he needs to say. To Philip. About Philip. 

Like about how Philip looks right now. 

They’re at the Red Hook party, crowded with kids Lukas barely knows, some he knows too well, music loud, floor already sticky with spilled beer. He’s coming back from the bathroom, looking for Philip, pushing through people, and turning corner after corner in an overly large house. Something nervous and frantic starts to build up in the back of his throat, flashes across the backs of eyelids of Philip being tied up, gagged, of Philip being taken from him. 

He is more than halfway to a full blown panic attack when he finds Philip standing out in the back yard. He sees the back of his head, hair curling around his ears, and takes a deep, steadying breath. He just thinks, _Philip_ , with overwhelming relief. 

Philip’s standing just outside the back door, leaning back against the house, watching all the stupid drunk kids, but his eyes seem unfocused and Lukas knows he’s thinking about his mom. Philip doesn’t even seem to register that Lukas has found him there. 

The sky is that dark purple that happens right before the sun disappears and there’s a warm light in the yard coming from the paper lanterns someone’s hung randomly from the trees and the side of the house. The light falls across Philip at a sharp angle, making his skin half shadow and half glowing flame. The light also catches on the slight wetness of Philip’s mouth from a recent sip of the beer he’s been nursing all night. 

Lukas thinks Philip is beautiful, but also doesn’t know if that’s right. If you can call a guy beautiful. He looks for another word. He thinks maybe _hot_ or _cute_ \- But those don’t feel right either. And, despite how hard he’s trying to accept this part of himself, those kind of words still feel unwelcome in his mouth when he’s talking about a boy, a little sharp around the edges still. He flinches away from them on instinct, and bites down hard on the inside of his cheek. 

(He has stopped hating himself so much but now he hates himself when he hates himself which is, well- He’s, to borrow his therapist’s phrase: Working On It. The phrase has actually become a weird sort of shorthand with him and Philip. Anytime he’s acting moody or mean or depressed or anything, Philip hip checks him or shoves him and smiles, says, "Working on it?" and Lukas stops what he’s doing or saying and responds "Working on it.")

He takes a breath and tries to just say it, “You look-” But Philip startles at the sound of his voice and turns to him, his eyes catching the light, shining, and he blinks and comes back from wherever he was and recognizes Lukas.

“I look…?” he says, tilting his head and giving Lukas that small, coy grin. And, fuck, he undoes Lukas every time with that look.

Lukas abandons whatever he was going to say and starts over again. He’s having one of those sharp but fragmented memories he’s been having lately. Things he’d put somewhere far back in his mind coming up out of nowhere. His therapist says it’s related to his PTSD, but he thinks maybe it’s just that he’s finally open, finally unlocked. He thinks maybe it’s just loving Philip that’s bringing up old hidden things like, 

“My mom had this painting- One of her uncles was an artist and she had some of his stuff in our house. Anyway, she had this painting of, like, a young guy sitting on the front steps of a house and there was this sunlight on his face and he looked kind of lost but also, like, peaceful and- It was hanging on the wall by the kitchen so I would just sit there and look at it while she was making dinner and I always- Shit.” He doesn’t know where he’s going with this. Or maybe he does. Philip is smiling at him, his face only half in the light. “You just reminded me of that, just now, standing here, I guess. That painting.” 

Lukas stops talking. He wishes he could just say what he means. That the way Philip looks standing out here makes Lukas want to kiss every part of him. That the way Philip looks right now is making him honestly go a little bit insane. That he had been doing fine pretending to be someone else until Philip showed up, and ever since, he’s been unraveling in a way that is terrifying and exhilarating. That, despite everything they’ve been through, Lukas isn’t sure he was alive until he met Philip, not really. That the way Philip looks right now, and all of the time, isn’t just about something physical, it’s like Philip’s face, Philip’s eyes, make him feel connected to something bigger than himself. He wishes he could just say it. That Philip is beautiful and he loves him. 

Instead he’s rambling about a dumb painting from his childhood.

Philip is just looking at him, the smile still on his face. “I remind you of a painting?” 

Lukas rubs the back of his neck, shakes his head. “It’s stupid, forget it,” he says. 

Philip takes a step toward him. “You wanna kiss me now?”   


“What?”

Another step closer. “Your deja vu, or whatever. You wanna kiss me in front of everyone now?” 

Because somehow Philip always understands him, always knows how to translate what he says into what he means. It comes down to this, really: Philip makes him feel so fucking _known_. 

Lukas reaches out and tugs on the hem of Philip’s shirt. He casts a single glance around, tries not to be nervous about it, but he just wants to see who their audience is. He doesn’t see anyone even looking in their direction. He’s got both his hands gripping Philip’s t-shirt and his knuckles graze against the bare skin underneath, feels Philip’s muscles contract a little at the contact. “No one’s even watching,” Lukas says, already half way to Philip’s mouth, hands now flat against his waist his shirt, all warm skin on warm skin. 

“Who cares,” Philip says, shrugging and closing the space between them, kissing Lukas so gently it makes Lukas want to fall over. 

“Right, who cares,” Lukas says as he goes back in, pressing his mouth firmly against Philip’s this time. 

Maybe people are watching, maybe they aren’t. What matters is him and Philip, what matters is this. Lukas knows he has time to find the right words for it.

**Author's Note:**

> [find this fic (and me) on Tumblr :) :) ](http://blaine-bonerson.tumblr.com/post/155144361265/more-eyewitness-fic-bc-obviously-you-were-begging)


End file.
